


The Point Is

by Velvedere



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Talking About Ragnarok, The Drunk Scene, Think Of The Baby Rabbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvedere/pseuds/Velvedere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best scene from the book "Good Omens," rewritten with our favorite Asgardian duo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Point Is

And now it was Tuesday. Fenris had been roaming free on Earth for fifteen days, and one Asgardian and one Asgardian-Jotun halfblood had been drinking solidly for three of them.

They sat opposite one another in the back room of one of Tony Stark’s safehouses in Greenwich Village.

Tony Stark had a lot of safehouses, and most of them had back rooms filled with rare, and very expensive, brands of alcohol. A lot of them didn’t have labels. Those that did were yellowed and crackling. Occasionally, whenever he had an excuse, Tony would drink one.

And, occasionally, serious men in dark suits would come calling and suggest, very politely, that perhaps he’d like to sell the property or at least consider leasing the back rooms for the kind of business that tended to go on in the area. Sometimes they’d offer cash, in large rolls of grubby hundred-dollar bills. Or, sometimes, while they were talking, other men in dark glasses would wander around the basement shaking their heads and saying how inflammable alcohol was, and what a firetrap he had here.

And Tony would nod and smile and offer them a drink. And then they’d go away. And then he’d buy out their favorite restaurants and have them demolished.

Just because you’re a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun.

The table in front of Thor and Loki was covered with bottles.

“The point is,” said Loki, “the point is. The point is.” He tried to focus on Thor.

“The point _is_ ,” he said, and tried to think of a point.

“The point I’m trying to make,” he said, brightening, “is the rabbits. That’s my point.”

“This realm’s rodent,” said Thor.

“Nononono,” said Loki, shaking a finger. “’S lagamorph. Your actual lagamorph. Difference is—” Loki waded through the swamp of his mind and tried to remember the difference. “Difference is, they—”

“Don’t have antlers?” volunteered Thor.

Loki’s brow furrowed. “Don’t think so. Pretty sure that’s not it. Something about their incisors. Whatever.” He pulled himself together. “The point is. The _point_ is. Their babies.”

He reached for a bottle.

“What of their young?” said Thor.

“Lots of babies. That’s my point. Size of. Size of. Size of lots of them. And then there’s the mice. Baby city, take it from me. Whole damn field full of babies.”

“Vigrid,” said Thor, staring moodily into his glass.

Loki gave him the long cool look of someone who has just had a girder dropped in front of his train of thought.

“Uh?”

“Great big field,” said Thor. “Hundred and twenty leagues in every direction. Covered under loads of huge and unnumbered assimb—assemb—lots of people, you know. Supposed to be where the battle takes place at the end, before it burns.”

“Truth?”

“Truth.”

“There you are, then,” said Loki, sitting back. “Whole field stomped on, poor rabbits and their babies so many flatcakes, no one giving a damn. Same with sheep. Whoops, they say, sky gone all black, winter never over, what they putting in the grass these days? And then—”

“They have four stomachs, you know, sheep,” said Thor, pouring another drink and managing to hit the glass on the third go.

“Nah.”

“Odin’s truth. Saw a film. Four stomachs.”

“That’s goats,” said Loki.

“Sheep,” insisted Thor.

Loki decided not to argue the point.

“There you are then,” he said. “All creatures great and smoke. I mean small. Great and small. Lot of them with babies. And then, sha-zam.”

“But _you’re_ part of it,” said Thor. “You trick people. You’re good at it.”

Loki thumped his glass on the table. “That’s different. They don’t have to hold a grudge. That’s the foretold part, right? Your father made it up. You’ve got to keep honor. But not to destruction.”

“All right. All right. I do not like it any more than you, but I told you. I can’t disod—disoy—not do what I’m told. He’s m’father.”

“There’s no pop tarts in Valhalla,” said Loki. “And no coffee.”

“Don’t you try to trick _me_ ,” said Thor wretchedly. “I know you, you old mare.”

“Just you think about it,” said Loki relentlessly. “You know what eternity is? You know what eternity is? I mean, do you _know_ what eternity is? There’s this waterfall, see, a mile high, at the end of the universe, and once every thousand years there’s this little girl—”

“What little girl?” said Thor suspiciously.

“This little girl I’m talking about. And every thousand years—”

“The same girl every thousand years?”

Loki hesitated. “Yes,” he said.

“Not so little, then.”

“Okay. And every thousand years this girl walks—”

“—limps—”

“— _walks_ all the way to this waterfall and drinks a spoonful of—”

“Hold on. That cannot be done. Between here and the end of the universe there is—” Thor waved a hand expansively, if a little unsteadily. “Lots of everything.”

“But she gets there anyway,” Loki persisted.

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“She could use the Bifrost,” said Thor.

Loki subsided a bit. “Yeah,” he said. “If you like. Anyway, this girl—”

“Only it is the _end_ of the universe we’re speaking of,” said Thor. “The Bifrost does not go quite that far. She would have to make a stop somewhere along the way. Perhaps use someone else’s transport to—” He hesitated. “What was it she does?”

“Drinks a spoonful of water from the falls,” said Loki. “And then she returns—”

“—on the Bifrost—”

“And after a thousand years she goes and does it all again,” said Loki quickly.

There was a moment of drunken silence.

“Seems a lot of effort just to get a drink,” mused Thor.

“Listen,” said Loki urgently, “the point is that when the girl has drunk the falls down to nothing, right, then—”

Thor opened his mouth. Loki just _knew_ he was going to make some point about open water sources and continual river flow, and plunged on quickly.

“—then _you still won’t have finished watching_ Neil Gaiman’s Beowulf.”

Thor froze.

“And you’ll _enjoy_ it,” Loki said relentlessly. “You really will.”

“Loki—”

“You won’t have a choice.”

“Listen—”

“Odin has no taste.”

“Now—”

“And not one single creamsicle stand.”

A look of pain crossed Thor’s suddenly very serious face.

“I can’t cope with this while I’m drunk,” he said. “I’m going to sober up.”

“Me too.”

They both winced as the alcohol left their bloodstreams, and sat up a bit more neatly. Thor straightened his cloak.


End file.
